Sober
by spooksfan08
Summary: Why does she do it? Joan Watson has to face a demon from her past leaving her to wonder if staying by Sherlock's side is the right thing to do.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer I do not own Elementary or anything related to Sherlock Holmes, no copyright infringement is intended nor should be inferred.**

**Sober**

Joan stared at her reflection in the mirror above the sink and tried to work out what was going on. She had long since stopped being Sherlock's sober coach. His father hadn't paid her to keep an eye on him for months. Working with the police had given him a new obsession. One which she was sure would be just as deadly as the drugs he had taken before they had met.

"You ok in there? Watson?" She turned as she heard him call through the bathroom door.

"Out in a minute." She called back and turned away from the mirror. She had no idea why he was being so impatient.

"Good. Well, thirty-six sessions have passed."

"I said a minute."

"I see. Time is an abstract concept to you. We are wanted at a homicide scene."

"Ok." She opened the bathroom door and walked through the living room. Various books and papers littered the furniture as he stormed past her. Rolling her eyes she grabbed her coat. "Murder?"

"What?"

"You said there was Yes. Watson, keep up."

"Hold on."

"What now?"

"You said there was a murder. Where is the murder scene? Does the Captain actually want us there?"

"Captain Gregson called. I assume that means he wants us there."

"Why do I do this?" Joan glared at him in disbelief.

"Because you are unable to work as a doctor through your own lack of confidence and self belief, despite being excellent at your work. My father has stopped paying you to be my sober coach, hence you were in need of employment and I was in need of an associate."

"I didn't mean that."

"Then what did you mean? " He stared at her, completely lost. "I find your emotional outburst to be somewhat irrational considering there is a murderer currently walking the streets of New York. Detective Bell is waiting for us. Come on."

"Ok, ok." Joan glared at him. "Lead the way."

###############

A/N Should I go on?


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer not mine**

**Chapter 2 : Complicated**

"You are remarkably quiet today, Watson." Sherlock glanced at her as they sat in the back of the police car. The body of a man in his late thirties was less that six foot away and Joan had been avoiding looking at it since they had arrived ten minutes earlier. Captain Gregson raised an eyebrow when the former doctor just shrugged.

"Did you hear me?"

"I heard you." Joan sighed. "Sometimes I just don't have a lot to say." She continued to glare out of the wndow.

"Not something I would have thought I'd hear from you. Now, Captain Gregson what do we already know about our victim?"

"Male, aged between 35 and 40. Dead for approximately 12 hours. No obvious cause of death. The ME said the toxicology results may take a day or so."

"Ah, but what about the man? Do we have a name yet?"

"No." Gregson sighed. "No, we don't have a formal ID."

"No wallet on him, no obvious form of identification such as a driver's licence or card from his workplace. He had no money on him?" Gregson shook his head. "No, I thought not. He seems not to have been missed, otherwise there would be a missing person's report into the loss of this poor soul."

"Someone has to miss the guy." Gregson shrugged.

Joan turned and nodded once. She hoped the dead man had someone to grieve for him. That he had a home and a family that loved him. It was what he had deserved but there was no way she would voice that fact. Gregson looked at her, for a moment she thought the older man was reading her thoughts in a way Sherlock never would.

"Anyway." Gregson looked from Sherlock to Joan. "I have some guys going through the recent missing persons cases. See if there are any matches."

"Good idea." Sherlock opened the car door and paused. "Watson?"

"Huh?"

"Are you going to come and take a look at the crime scene or spend the duration of our visit daydreaming?"

"You know something?" Joan snapped. "Screw you." She opened the car door and marched in the opposite direction to the crime scene leaving the Captain and Sherlock silent in the car.

"What did I say?"

"You know something?" Gregson repeated Joan's earlier words. "For a genius you are thick sometimes. Joan is clearly upset over something. Maybe she has an aversion to this particular case, maybe she is ill. Who knows? She's your roomate. Did you ask her?"

"I did. Just then."

"Oh listen to yourself once in a while. I can deal with the whole British accent thing and the recovering drug addict but the insensitive BS you are spouting gives all men a bad rep. Now go after her and find out why she just left. The body will be taken back to the ME's office and you can see the scene later."

"Captain."

"It is necessary, now go."

##############################

Joan closed her eyes, the familar feeling of nausea whelling up in her stomach. She hated it when Sherlock spoke to her as if she was an idiot. She hated it even more when she gave him excuse to do just that. She rested her hands on the cool metal railing that provided the only barrier between herself and the water below.

"Are you alright?" She shook her head at the familiar voice. Without turning she raised her head and answered.

"You know so much. You tell me."

"My theory is you wanted to stay at home today. That you are either becoming unwell or disillusioned. Either that or you recognise the victim." He paused as he looked at her. "That's it. You believe you knew the victim."

Joan covered her face with her hands as she tried to stop herself from crying. Sherlock stared at her, bemused at the way she had reacted. He knew Captain Gregson and Detective Bell dispaired of the way he spoke sometimes and how he seemed to disregard the feelings of others around him. He had hoped he was different with Joan, that he wasn't so guarded.

"As ever." Joan turned to watch him staring at her.

"Why didn't you tell me?" His voice was low, almost a whisper as he watched her. He never seen her cry before. Joan sniffed as he handed her a hankerchief.

"Thanks."

"Why didn't you tell me? Who is he?"

"I wasn't sure. Not until I saw him." Joan shrugged her shoulders.

"Clearly this man was important to you." Sherlock watched as she nodded.

"He was. Once."

"Who was he Joan? What was he to you?" She started at the use of her first name before turning away again.

"Robert Chan." Joan sighed. "His name is Dr Robert Chan. And if he has been murdered then I would bet my house. If I had a house on the fact that whoever killed him knows who he was and isn't going to stop there."

"A serial killer?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "One murder doesn't make a serial."

"I know that!" Joan snapped. "I also knew Robert and I know who his enemies are. Because they threatened me too."

"You think you'll be next?" Sherlock stepped nearer to her.

"No." Joan sighed. "Yes. Oh I dunno. It's complicated."

"Complicated is my speciality." He smiled at her.

####################

A/N More soon. Please review


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer not mine

Knowledge is a Funny thing.

Sherlock walked back through the doors of the police station thinking about the dead man who Watson seemed to know so well. The thought that someone had threatened his friend made his blood boil. It also reminded him Joan had a life before she became his sober-coach/room-mate, the thought was slightly disconcerting.

"Hey." Captain Gregson walked towards him.

"Captain." Sherlock held the older man's gaze for a moment. "Any news on our Dr Chan?"

"Mr Chan. He completed his medical degree the same time as Joan but he never practised as a doctor. Not in the medical sense anyway."

"Ah."

"Why ah?"

"Watson says she knew the victim. That they studied together."

"Yeah. And?"

"And." Sherlock turned to him. "She tells me he was threatened."

"Ah, and does she know who threatened him?"

"I believe she does." Sherlock sighed as he walked away from the police officer knowing that he would have to tell him that Joan had been threatened too.

####################

New York was as hectic as ever as Joan hopped off the bus. She was determined not have Sherlock think she was incompetent. The rain soaked streets were doing nothing to improve her mood as she reached the old battered steps that lead to the battered old door at the top. Joan stared up at the scruffy looking net curtains that adorned the dirty windows feeling more and more uneasy as she did so. She pulled her camel coloured coat tighter to her and sent up a silent prayer that she was not going to walk into a trap.

"What you looking at?" Joan turned as she heard the voice behind her.

"I'm not looking at anything." She lied. The boy in front of her looked her up and down, a snarl on his face as he did so.

"You were. Who are you?"

"I'm Dr Joan Watson. I work for the NYPD."

"If you are a doctor why are you working for the police?" The teenager was clearly confused.

"It's a long story." Joan sighed. "I'm looking for an old friend of mine. He used to live around here."

"I've lived here all my life." The teenager stated proudly. "I'd know who you're looking for."

"Oh really?" Joan smiled. "And how old are you?"

"Thirteen."

"Oh right." Joan replied. "And what's your name?"

"I ain't gotta tell you that. I ain't got to tell no cop nothing. Not if I aint got a lawyer with me."

"I'm not a police officer." Joan stated calmly. "I consult for the NYPD. It's different."

"Oh."

"So? Name?"

"Freddie."

"Freddie what? Kruger?"

"Wilson."

"Ok Freddie Wilson. I'm looking for the apartment where Dr Richard Chan lives."

"You'll be looking a long time. Dude got wasted yesterday." Joan took a deep breath and tried not to think of the lifeless body she had found less than twelve hours earlier.

"He did?" Joan kept her composure as the kid looked at her. "He must have a place around here? I need to talk to his wife."

"Oh you'd be lucky. She left a year ago. Headed up to Washington DC."

"Ok, thanks." Joan sighed. She knew she was getting nowhere fast. Freddie stared at her for a moment.

"The house with the black door. He lived there. 2110." He turned and ran down the street as Joan took a deep breath. She knew she was playing with fire but something told her she had to find out what her old friend had got involved with. And she had to di it without Sherlock breathing down her neck.

#######################

A/N Please review.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer not mine**

**2110**

"Joan Watson." Captain Gregson stated calmly.

"What about her?" Sherlock asked. He sat at a desk in the NYPD office staring at the file in front of him. He knew there as something he was missing. Chan had been on course have a successful medical career. _But then, so had Joan. _He reminded himself.

"She's never struck me as the type to go off on her own."

"No." Sherlock nodded once. "Me neither."

"Which tells me she not only knew the victim but she's scared of something."

"How well can you really know someone?" Sherlock looked up. "I mean, it is 2013 an age where we have more means of communication than ever. Yet, we don't really know the people we share our lives with."

"Very profound. Doesn't change the fact Watson has gone off on her own."

"You sound as though she is in danger." Sherlock got to his feet and held the older man's gaze.

"I'm afraid she may be." Gregson stated. "I am afraid she is."

"What do you base that assumption on?"

"Joan Watson hasn't left you out of her sight professionally for almost a year. She is an intelligent woman, I have no doubt about that but she was seen getting off a bus in the Bronx. Since then, nothing."

"Nothing? Who saw her?"

"A kid, Freddie Wilson."

"You are going on the word of a kid?" Sherlock frowned.

"Yeah. The same kid that called in the body yesterday. Freddie may be only a kid but he knows that area. If he thinks she was in a dangerous place then she was."

"You are using a kid as an informant? Ethically is that wise?" Sherlock began pacing the room.

"I am not using a kid as an informant as you put it. Freddie is in my youngest girl's class at high school. I knew his father. He was an excellent cop. Died on duty three years ago."

"Ah, so what now?"

"Now I suggest you stop staring at that crap in front of you and get out there. Go find your friend."

########################

Joan stared up at the dilapidated house knowing she had to either get the courage to knock the door or turn and get on the next bus back to the police station. Sighing heavily she closed her eyes briefly before heading up to the black door with the peeling paint. She raised the old brass-effect door knocker and waited for the door to open.

#########################

"This is not crap, as you so delicately put it." Sherlock huffed as he walked through the police station. "It is Chan's personal record from the university. He was the only person in his year to gain higher marks than Watson."

"So? He was bright."

"Bright? He was a genius." Sherlock stated. "Clearly he gave up medicine for some other reason than he was not gifted enough academically."

"You said he had been threatened and that you believed Joan knew who was threatening him."

"I did." Sherlock frowned. "Captain, can you get me a car? Now if possible."

"Where are you going?" Gregson looked at him.

"To find Watson." He stated calmly, rocking back on his heels. Gregson nodded grimly.

"So you see what I'm saying?"

"Which is?"

"That whoever killed Chan may well be after Joan too."

"Only she is either choosing to ignore the possibility or is oblivious to it." Sherlock marched down the corridor to the door of the bullpen.

"So what are you planning?"

"You, Captain need to talk to your young friend once again. I am going to the Bronx to look for her." He stepped through the bullpen doors as Gregson swore under his breath.

##########################

The rain started pounded the streets as Joan gave up on anyone answering the door. Shed pulled the collar of her coat around her and hurried down the steps. A car ran through the puddle at the end of the street soaking her as it screeched to a halt. Joan swore under her breath as she failed to avoid a soaking.

"Hey!" She called as the car door opened. "Would you look where you're going?"

"Oh I was looking." The large set man got out of the car and headed towards her. She frowned as she realised who had been driving the car. Suddenly not telling Sherlock where she was headed seemed like a really stupid thing to do. She stepped back, shaking her head as the man in front of her lifted his gun.

"NO!" She yelled as she tried to run. Seconds later shots filled the air as she gasped for breath.

##########################

A/N Short chapter. Please review.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer not mine**

**Emotions**

Joan gasped as the hand covering her mouth let her go. She struggled as strong arms pinned her to the wall.

"Ow!" Sherlock snapped as he almost dropped her. "What was that for?"

"Sherlock!" Joan hissed. "I didn't know it was you."

"Well, seeing as someone is firing a gun at you I believed speed to be of the essence." He rested his head back against the concrete wall of the building he had dragged her behind. "Who is shooting at you?"

"I don't know." Joan snapped, waving her hands in the air. "People don't routinely try to kill me."

"I wonder why."

"Sherlock! Not helping." She snapped as she dared to peep around the edge of the building. Sherlock shrugged his shoulders.

"What are you doing here?"

"None of your business." Joan hissed before walking away. Sherlock frowned. It wasn't like her to keep secrets and it certainly wasn't like her to walk straight into trouble. He had no idea what was going on.

"I think you'll find it is. In fact it is very much my business." He jogged behind her. "You are my associate."

"I know." Joan walked on, the anger coursing through her bones.

"And as such, I don't want to see anything bad happen to you."

"Sherlock." Joan had almost forgotten about the person who had tried to shoot her moments earlier. "You make it sound like you actually care. Now, correct me if I am wrong. It is because of my involvement in your life that I lost my apartment. I loved that apartment."

"It is not my fault your tenant made adult movies there."

"Porn. You can say porn." Joan shuddered.

"Whatever, it is not my fault."

"No, well maybe not." She conceded as she buried her face in her hands. "My life has changed so much since I met you."

"As has mine." Sherlock smiled and rocked back on his heels. "For the better I might add."

"Really?"

"Well I'm sober." He smiled. "That has to be something."

"It is." Joan sighed. "It really is." She turned and walked away leaving him wondering what he had missed.

###############################

"David Chan." Captain Gregson looked at the photograph of the deceased doctor. "He had a sedate lifestyle. No criminal record Doesn't appear to have made any enemies worth worrying about."

"So?" Ben frowned. "Someone killed him."

"Yeah, noticed that." Gregson pulled a face. "Any news from Sherlock?"

"Not yet. I think he wanted to talk to that kid that called the body in."

"Frankie." Gregson sighed. "That kid is not an informant. I do not use 13-year-old kids as informants."

"I know." Ben walked alongside him. "But the kid clearly trusts you enough to tell you what he knows."

"His father was a good cop. He is a good kid. A wise-ass but he's a good kid. What would Sherlock want to talk to him about?"

"No idea. Has he any experience with kids?"

"Knowing Sherlock, no." Gregson frowned. "I just hope he finds Watson before anything happens."

###############################

Sherlock pulled the collar of his jacket closer to him as he jogged to keep up with Watson. He had no idea why Joan was so upset. He knew that in their line of work there was a good chance someone would take a dislike to their activities but it was unlike his friend to take such things personally. He grabbed her scarf as she caught up with her.

"David Chan."

"What about him?" She looked away, tears brimming her eyes. Sherlock frowned.

"What was he to you? He was more than just a fellow student at medical school."

"I." Joan paused, swallowing hard.

"Someone tried to kill you today. If it wasn't for some spotty oik with a BMX I may not have found you."

"Frankie. And he is 13."

"That's what I said. A spotty oik." He watched as she smiled slightly. "As spotty oiks go he was remarkably erudite."

"He's a good kid."

"He is." Sherlock nodded. "It's you I'm worried about. We said we wouldn't have secrets."

"David was in my class at med school. We were close."

"Close?"

"We were going to get engaged but he started acting weird. I assumed he was cheating on me. When I called him on it he broke up with me. Said it was too dangerous. It was a week before we were due to graduate and he just left. That was the last time I saw him."

"Why was it too dangerous? What was he protecting you from?"

"I dunno. But I think whatever it is has come back to bite us on the ass." She closed her eyes as Sherlock nodded. The last thing she expected to feel was Sherlock's arms around her hugging her to him.

"Well I say we take this to them. Whoever they are, they are messing with the wrong people." He whispered as she closed her eyes and let him hold her.

"I just want to go home. "She sighed.

"Home it is." He took her led her out of the alleyway, relieved that the gunman had disappeared, for now at least.

###################

A/N more soon.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer not mine**

**Home.**

Sherlock glanced across at Watson as they sat in the back of the yellow taxi. Neither of them really knew what to say. Sherlock frowned and shook his head, disturbed that his friend had behaved so out of character. Even now, when he knew she was safe he felt sick.

"Watson." He watched as she closed her eyes.

"Yeah?"

"You're shaking." She opened her eyes to stare at her hands. Without thinking he reached over and took her hands in her own. "Joan."

"I'm fine." She sighed, staring at their joined hands. She didn't want to let go but knew once he had heard the real story of her relationship with David Chan there was a very real chance that he wouldn't be able to let go fast enough.

#############

"Hey," Gregson looked up as Detective Bell and Sherlock walked into the office.

"Hey." Bell answered. "Watson is safe."

"For now." Sherlock sat down opposite the Captain. "Someone tried to kill her. I believe it was the same person that killed our victim."

"Possible." Gregson conceded. "We need to find them. I'm waiting for the final tox report."

"The man was shot in the head. I think we can assume that when one is murdered execution style recreational drugs were not high on their list of things to do just before they met their maker." Sherlock watched as Bell raised an eyebrow.

"You have a theory?"

"I do." Sherlock stated. "The killer knew Chan and by extension he also knew Watson during their time at Medical School. Now, it seems Chan left his studies merely a week before they were due to graduate. When Watson questioned him about his strange behaviour he lied to her before disappearing. The next time she saw him was when we viewed the body."

"So? Who would want to kill him and hurt her?"

"No idea."

"Were you followed home?" Gregson asked as he got to his feet.

"No." Sherlock stated. "I don't think so."

"You told me you believed Chan would have been he was killed."

"I did."

"So why wouldn't these people follow you and Watson? It seems that she is also a target."

"Oh God."

"What? Where is she now?" Bell asked as he looked around as if suddenly realising his colleagues former sober coach was nowhere to be seen.

"Home." Sherlock frowned. "She was exhausted."

"So there is a chance you were watched and when you left they stayed watching the house." Bell stated.

"Call her." Gregson was almost out of the office. "Tell her to stay there until we arrive. It seems her ex boyfriend has brought a whole load of trouble to her door."

"And by extension, mine." Sherlock pulled his cell phone out of his jeans and began dialling. "Answer the phone, dammit." He knew he was behaving out of character. He didn't care. The phone went to answer phone and Joan's cheery message requesting that the caller leave their number played out. "It's me. Answer the phone." Sherlock stated. He had no idea if she could.

###############################

A/N More soon.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer not mine**

**The Call**

"Answer the phone." Sherlock barked as he spoke to Joan's answering machine for what felt like the hundredth time in as many seconds. He had never been so desperate to hear her voice. Even when she had been taken by Irene. No, he closed his eyes when Moriarty had used their friendship against them he had been able to keep his emotions under control. Now, now all he could feel was the ice grip of fear around his heart.

"Sherlock?" Gregson turned to him as they reached the parking lot. "You ok?"

"Do I look ok? No? Obviously. There is a very good chance a murderer is currently in my home with my associate who may or may not be still alive."

"Ok. So, get in the car." Gregson looked at him as Bell raised an eyebrow.

"Detective Bell. Is there anything you wish to say?" Sherlock rocked back on his heels as the young detective narrowed his eyes.

"Only that 1. You and Watson are more than associates. And two, get in the car so we can get to your place and catch the scum that did this and hopefully find out that Joan has left the battery on her cell go dead for some reason." Sherlock nodded as Bell spoke.

"I just pray that is the only thing that is dead." Sherlock mumbled before sliding into the back of the police car.

########################

"Hello?" Joan brushed her long black hair out of her eyes and listened. She knew Sherlock had gone to the precinct to see Gregson but she was sure he would take his time here. He could never just nip in and out as he always said he would. She paused as she wondered if she had been mistaken. Maybe she had dreamed that someone was in the house. She shook her head and placed her head back on the pillow, staring at the ceiling she tried to work out what was going on. It seemed her life had been turned upside down since the discovery of David Chan's body. No, she corrected herself her life had been turned upside down the moment she agreed to become Sherlock's sober coach. A creak on the stairs caught her attention as her mind snapped back to the present.

"Hello? Sherlock?" She pushed herself up on to her feet and tried not to think about the pain in her shoulder where Sherlock had thrown her away from the bullets that had been meant for her. She closed her eyes as she realised Sherlock would never creep up the stairs. He generally ran everywhere. Carefully she picked up the lamp at the side of her bed and crept to the doorway.

###############################

Sherlock leant between the front and passenger seat of the car as Gregson pushed his foot on the gas pedal.

"Time really is of the essence."

"I had noticed." Gregson huffed as he wove in and out of the traffic. Sirens blared at the uniform back up he had requested reached them. "I hope this turns out to be something and nothing."

"No one hopes that more than me." Sherlock sighed as his tattooed arms came up to cover his face. The sense of foreboading just intensified with each mile they travelled. He knew Joan was in trouble. He just knew. The police car parked a few feet away from Sherlock's drive but he was out of the car and running towards his house before Gregson had killed the engine.

"What?" Bell caught up with him.

"I don't know about you, Detective Bell but I never ever leave home with my front door unlocked and Watson never walks around with the house unsecure. Oh and I never tend to break the window alongside said door to gain access."

"Shit."

"Yes, I assure you. If something has happened to Watson there will be a lot of that flying around." He turned and ran into the house as both detectives wondered just what they would find.

############################

A/N more soon


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer not mine. **

**Sorry for delay in updating.**

**Hitting the fan**

Sherlock walked into his house slowly as Detective Bell and Gregson looked around. He knew his home had been broken into. The fact that none of his possessions or Joan's had been disturbed or taken seemed irrelevant. He glanced down to see the little tortoise he had adopted undisturbed in his vivarium.

"He's gone." Sherlock stated. calmly. Every cell in his being told him Joan was still in the house. He fought to stop himself from running around the house calling her name. Gregson stepped outside and spoke into his cell phone, ordering a forensics team to get to the house in Baker Street. Bell swore as he pulled his gun and watched Sherlock walk up the stairs slowly as to make the least amount of noise possible. The doors to the upstairs bathroom, guest room and both bedrooms remained closed. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves he pushed the bathroom door open.

"Clear." Detective Bell stated.

"Clear." Sherlock confirmed. There was no sign of any struggle in the bathroom. He just hoped the same would be said of the rest of the house. He nodded towards his own room. Bell frowned and kept his gun ready. The next room was just as empty. The only room left to investigate was Joan's. Part of him thought he shouldn't be walking into her personal space but another ny times he had sat in the chair at the end of her bed waiting for her to wake. A glance at Bell told him that the young detective was just as worried as he was.

"Sherlock?"

"She's in here." He tensed as he realised if Joan had heard them there was a very good chance she would have appeared before now. He rested his hand on the door handle and sent up a silent prayer to a God he knew couldn't exist before pushing the door open. Bell burst through the door with his gun at the ready. Gregson was a second behind him.

"What?" Gregson looked at the pieces of the ceramic lamp smashed on the neglected hardwood floor as the bedclothes pulled askew. There was no sign of the young doctor.

"She hit him." Sherlock stated, with a hint of pride in his voice.

"Yeah, well someone smashed the lamp."

"Joan did." Sherlock walked to the open widow and looked out at the street. "I was mistaken. She isn't here."

"Yeah, figured that." Gregson handed him Joan's smashed cell phone. "This was in pieces in the hallway."

"Explains why she didn't answer."

"Doesn't explain where she is now." Gregson stared at the destroyed phone. "Don't think we can even lift any prints off this. I pulled it out the washing up bowl. Do you actually do any washing up? You know. Clean the plates etc?"

"No." Sherlock stated. "And it will tell us where she is. Clever Watson, you clever clever person."

"Someone want to explain to me what he is talking about?" Gregson stated. He had no idea what the younger man was talking about.

"When Joan became my sober coach she asked me to carry a cell phone with me. I didn't wish to do so. She wanted to know why. Stated it would be easier for us to keep in contact. She was somewhat bemused when I told her that once the phone is switched on it can also be utilised as a tracker device. Obviously there are only certain organisations that can do this. One being the police. With a warrant."

"The phone is here. Smashed to pieces." Gregson began to wonder if Sherlock was really loosing his mind.

"Ah yes. The phone is in your hand. Where is the sim card?" He ran out of the room yelling as he went. "Get the warrant Captain. We can find her, she's left us the directions."

################

Joan opened her eyes slowly as she tried to take in the dirty, dank room she found herself in. The smell of damp and mould hit her as she looked around.

"Dr Joan Watson M.D." She turned as the man spoke. For a moment there was a surge of satisfaction as she realised the wound on his forehead still needed stitches and had been caused by her bedside lamp.

"Hi." She frowned. "Where am I?"

"Don't worry about that."

"You killed David. You killed him." Joan felt the anger build inside her. Any fear that had been building was pushed aside as she thought about the man that had been left to die in cold blood.

"Yes." The man opposite her nodded. "I gave him the choice. I told him he could give me what I wanted. Now seeing as he didn't I think you can."

"I don't even know what you want."

"Oh I think you do. You and Chen were close. He would have told you were it is."

"I don't know what you are talking about." Joan glared at him. The gun in his hand glinting in the light from the window.

"That is a shame." The man shook his head before lifting the gun. A single shot ran out as the sounds of screams filled the air.

######

A/N More soon. Please review.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer not mine**

**This is the penultimate chapter.**

**Reunion?**

Sherlock stared at the scene in front of him. He felt sick. For the first time in almost two years he wanted heroin. Badly. Actually any drug would have done. Anything that would make him forget the scene he had just turned away from. The sight of Joan laying on the floor, blood around her as police officers yelled for medical help. He bolted from the room, convinced he was going to be sick. His friend, probably the only friend he had in his adult life was gone. Snatched away from him by her very own Moriaty. And he had done nothing to help her.

"Holmes!" He ignored the call of Captain Gregson and focused on the grass at his feet. The rain had started but he didn't care. Nothing mattered. Not now.

###################

"You ok?" Detective Bell knelt next to Joan on the bloodstained wooden block floor. "Joan? Watson?"

"Yeah." She opened her eyes. "Oh God."

"He's dead. He can't touch you or anyone else now." He helped her into a sitting position as Joan looked around the room.

"Where?"

"He's fine." Gregson stated as he walked towards them. "He was here just a moment ago."

"Right." Joan ran a hand through her long black hair and tried to think what had happened. Everything seemed like a hazy dream. She knew her former boyfriend was dead. The man who had killed him was also dead, she'd heard the gunshot and watched as he had raised the gun to her head. But she was alive. It didn't seem real.

"You sure you're ok?" Captain Gregson looked at her. She nodded, then regretted it immediately.

"My head hurts."

"Ok, we can get you checked over when the ambulance gets here." He watched as Detective Bell helped her to her feet.

"No, I'll be ok. Just concussion. I know what to look out for." She closed her eyes for a moment as she tried to avoid looking at the dead man on the floor. "He was going to kill me. He said I had something he wanted. That I knew where it was. I have no idea what he was talking about."

"No?"

"None at all." She sighed. "He killed David over the same thing. Either David knew what he was talking about and lied or he was just as clueless as me. What a waste." She shook her head before walking to the door. Forensic officers and medical teams arrived. Quietly slipping out the door she left the police officers to get on with what they had to do.

#########################

Sherlock stared at the grass and tried to order his thoughts. Every possible scenario was running through his mind. He hated the dead man on the floor upstairs. He hated that Joan had been taken from their home and he hated the fact that now he was stressed, now he was essentially grieving for his best friend the synapses in his brain were craving a hit, a release from reality.

"Sherlock." He closed his eyes, angry that his brain was now playing tricks on his. "HOLMES!" She tried again. This time his eyes snapped open.

"I." He turned to see her staring at him. She looked exhausted and upset. But alive. She was definitely alive.

"You ok?" He looked at her as she stepped towards him. "Gregson said you left in a bit of a rush."

"I." He ran a hand over his face, seemingly unable to form a coherent sentence. "You were dead."

"No I wasn't." She smiled at him. "I nearly was. If you hadn't worked it out."

"You." Sherlock looked away, suddenly embarrassed by the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. "I'm so sorry. I should have been faster. I should have known."

"And how exactly? When it was all to do with my past?" Joan took a step forward. "I was employed to be your sober coach. Remember? Talking about my past has hardly been in the job description."

"Maybe it should have been." He raised his head, smiling slightly. "Are you ok? Really? I mean, did he hurt you?"

"And what if he did? You can't kill him again."

"I can try." Sherlock watched as she rolled her eyes. "Watson."

"Hey." She smiled as he uncharacteristically pulled her into his arms. She let him hug her, finally realising how close she had been to dying. He buried his face in her shoulder as the tears finally fell.

#######################

"Ok." Gregson walked towards Bell. "You ok to finish clearing up here? We have an ID on our friend there."

"Sure." Bell nodded as he stared at the scene in front of him. He knew he would be there for a while. "You think Joan is ok?"

"I." Gregson looked out the window to where Sherlock and Joan were standing feet below. "Yeah, something tells me they are gonna be just fine." He turned away from the window smiling as Bell carried on with his work. It was over. Gregson didn't know if he would ever fully understand what had happened but his team were back together and that was all that mattered.

###############

A/N More soon.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer not mine**

**Back to the Start**

Sherlock splashed the cold water on his face as he tried to block out the memories of the last few weeks. He had tried to push the memory of Joan laying on the wooden floor out of his mind. It was proving to be more difficult than he thought. Staring at his stubbled reflection in the mirror he frowned. Joan Watson was his best friend, perhaps the only friend he had made since his arrival in America. She was something else, the one person he couldn't push away with his intellect or his behaviour. She knew about the drugs, the women and the bizarre addiction to tattoos. He shook his head as he heard Joan call through the bathroom door.

"Sherlock!"

"I'll be one minute." He called back.

"That's sixty seconds." Joan stated. "Captain Gregson called. He wants to see us at the station."

"Really?" He splashed his face once more. His heavily tattooed arms felt heavy as he reached for the towel. "What does he want?"

"He didn't say. Sounded pretty urgent though."

"Right." He sighed as he pulled on a clean t-shirt, "Isn't it always?"

"Come on, Holmes!" Sherlock shook his head as he heard her call again. He had no idea why she stayed with him. It had been months since his father stopped paying her to be his sober coach. She could have left him then, gone on with her life, maybe even restarted her medical career. Now? Now he didn't know why she stayed.

"I'm coming." He opened the door to see her waiting for him. "See? I said I would be a minute. I think you'll find I have taken 59.6 seconds."

"Really." Joan smiled at him. Sherlock raised an eyebrow as he realised she was teasing him.

"What is it?"

"Captain Gregson called. He wants to see us at the station."

"Now?"

"No on Monday." Joan smirked. "Yes, now."

"Right." He headed towards the front door. "Well? Knowing Captain Gregson time is most likely of the essence."

"Yes, it is." Joan grabbed her jacket. "There's been a murder. A body has been found in an apartment block twenty minutes ago. He's going to meet us at the station and then go to the crime scene."

"Ah, no rest for the wicked." Sherlock sighed. "And we all know I've been wicked."

"Come on." Joan smiled as she walked out of the house and down the steps. "What are you waiting for?"

"Nothing." Sherlock followed her. "Watson? Joan?"

"Yeah?" She headed towards her little car as Sherlock followed her.

"Why do you do it? Why do you stay? When you could go be a doctor somewhere."

"Sherlock." Joan turned to face him. "You may not know it but I want to be here. There is no way I am running out on you. Not now."

"Now?"

"Sherlock." She smiled enigmatically at him. "Hurry up." He got into the car as she started the engine, wondering why Joan stayed with him now he was sober. He slammed the car door as she huffed, hating how he treated her little car. he shrugged his shoulders and let her drive, knowing she was the reason he was who he was. She was the reason he stayed sober.

#####################################

A/N thanks for the reviews. Hope you liked the epilogue. May write more Sherlock in the future.


End file.
